Its shell allows the lobster to grow in a constant state of infinite metamorphosis, adapting by needling its plumpness into every salty nook and cranny of armor like polycarbonate, both in simultaneous protection and prison, until, at last, it shatters the proverbial ceiling and wriggles free its naked, ancient body out into the sea’s thousand icy cold leagues, forgetting its cells will inevitably regenerate a shiny new casing. In this way, the lobster theoretically cannot die, its past, present, and future life already predetermined, evolving, molting, and rebuilding in an eternal flat circle of time, unless predator or man finally, mercifully, comes along and severs it.
About the Poet:
Andrea Festa is a paralegal by day/writer by night residing in Philadelphia. A graduate of the University of the Arts with a BFA in screenwriting, prose poetry is her forte. Her work has been featured on Ephemeral Elegies.
Ephemeral Elegies 
This poem is a good catch and entraps my sea of consciousness. Thank you Andrea.
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Such a curious existence. A bit sad, but it may beat living forever.
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